The phone vibrated in her hand. Hello, my dear. Enjoying Montana?

Between shaky fingers and the thin layer of perspiration gathering on the palms of her hands, she only managed two words. Not hardly!

“I planned to ask you to the premier as my date, but you didn’t even respond to the bouquet of roses I sent for your birthday.”

“I hate roses!” The shrill of her voice cut through the space between them like the swing of an axe.

“No you don’t.” He shook his head adamantly. “Red roses used to be your favorite.”

“Not anymore.” She was thrown into a panic, bombarded with a dozen urges to unload the burden and solitude she’d been carrying. Her self-control began to wither, anger tipped the scale. “Thanks to you I can’t even look at roses anymore. The smell makes my stomach turn. You ruined it for me. Just like everything else, Summer!”

They both fell silent. Nothing between them, but weighted air saturated with tension and remorse.

“You don’t like roses…because of me?” he ground, more as a painful statement of acknowledgement than a question.

Her eyes aimlessly searched the room, courage nowhere to be found, before landing on his shirtfront. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

He showed zero emotion. “Yes you did. You’ve been holding that in for a long time.”

“Summer,” she said, unsteadily.

He held up a hand in restraint as if warning her off, but not before she caught a glimpse of anguish and turmoil forged across his face as he walked away.

Chapter Nine

‡

Carrie Ann hid beneath her covers, seeking refuge from the deafening cracks of lightning. Huddled on her side, she held one hand over her ear and the other over the pup’s, blocking out the rumble of thunder and high winds howling through the tall trees. Aspen panted, nudging Carrie Ann with her wet nose. Her hand trembled uncontrollably petting her head.

“It’s okay girl. It’s just a storm. It’s just lightning. It’ll be over soon.” She repeated the encouraging words attempting to bolster the tiniest amount of comfort for her and the dog.

Carrie Ann was already wide awake and hanging on every little noise when she heard Aspen’s nails clicking down the hallway in a fast trot. The puppy pushed open the door, scratching and whining at the edge of her bed. It took two whole seconds for Carrie Ann to snatch her by the belly and dive back under the blankets.

Carrie Ann suffered from an abnormal fear of lightning. Each time a bolt of electricity ripped through the heavens it brought back the terrible memory of the night her mother died. The image of her father’s large silhouette sitting at the edge of her bed in the darkness, still haunted her. His grief stricken face unrecognizable, disguised in ashen grey as a bolt of lightning broke through her window. Shadows of his mouth moved in slow motion delivering the horrible news that her mother wouldn’t be coming home. His promise…broken.

The California coastal fog had burned off early that Saturday morning. The calm before the storm delivered an unusually hot June day. The sun shined brightly, warming the top of her head as she played Barbie’s, watching her mom play tennis with a neighbor. Carrie Ann could never remember the precise moment her mother collapsed on the court. Her brain had blocked the horrific memory from her sub-conscious. However, she clearly remembered her father’s promise when he said that everything would be fine. He swore her mother would be okay. All the power her father fought so hard to earn wasn’t powerful enough to save her mother. His promise was broken. Nothing would ever be okay again.

A bright flash exploded in her room as another bolt of lightning crashed to the ground. Carrie Ann screeched out loud. Her feet hit the floor, pup in hand, rushing from her bedroom to the other side of the cabin.

“Summer?” she whispered thickly through the gap in the door. “Summer?”

Nothing had changed. The man could sleep through a tsunami warning. She eased the door open, swiftly tiptoeing across the room. He laid sprawled out on his back in the center of his bed. Silky white sheets draped to his waist. Dark shadows of the night hung in the dips and contours of his bare chest and abs. One arm rested at his side, the other thrown haphazardly above his head. Drinking in the stunning sight of him, she could hardly control her breathing. Her heart beat rapidly, the sound of it pulsed stridently in her ears.

“Summer, are you awake?” Scoffing at her own ridiculous question, she eased a hip onto the edge of his mattress so she could reach him.

He stirred restlessly, rearranging the arm above his head.

Carrie Ann extended an arm, the flat of her hand hovered above his chiseled physique, deciding where to touch him. The outline of muscular thigh bent to the side beneath the silky fabric. Temptation, powerful in its force, pulled at her hand like a magnet.

A shiver ran through her.

Warily, she touched her icy fingers his warm shoulder. “Summer?”

His eyes jarred wide with alarm. Summer lunged upright, swiftly grasping onto her upper arm. “Carrie Ann?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” she croaked. A fine layer of perspiration spread across her skin, dampening the thin material of her cotton tank top.

Mere inches separated their faces. He looked bewildered, blinking repeatedly to see if she was real. His hands wandered to the underside of her jaw, cupping her face. The confusion in his eyes replaced with lust. His fingers delved into her thick mane, gently clasping the base of her skull. The pressure felt divinely good.

“You came to me?” Hope clouded his whisper. His moist breath, rough and strained, drifting across her cheek on a billowy cloud.

Unable to make a coherent sentence, she sat silent, panting and quaking from head to toe. Her hands came to his arms, securing to his wrists, uncertain if she wanted to hold them there or pull them away. Aspen scampered from her lap taking ownership of his pillow.

Thunder roared through the black sky in a long drawn-out rumble, delivering a strike of lightning beyond his window. Her clammy fingers tugged at the dusting of dark hair covering his wrists as she squeezed, digging her nails into the flesh.

Summer dropped his forehead against hers. All the air pushed from his lungs in a deep, disillusioned sound of sympathy.

“Christ. It’s the lightning?” He drew her into his chest, arms closed around her, stroking her hair and back. “Come here, Red.”

She nodded weakly and went limp against him. Gripped by fear, her arms quaked violently, curling around his shoulders. Carrie Ann shimmied to get closer. Summer held her safe and secure, offering constant reassurance. “It’s okay. I’m right here. I got you, Red.”

Over the years, she’d tried cognitive behavioral techniques to calm her fear: soothing massages, visualization exercises, talking herself through the panic, but nothing calmed her nerves like the feeling of Summer’s embrace.

Clutching her shoulders, he coaxed her a few inches from his body. “You want to climb in here with me?”

Glimpsing downward at the sheet pooled around his very naked hips, she shook her head hotly. Her breathing slowly began to regulate, anxiously waiting for the next strike. She trembled from head to toe, peeling her nails from the muscles flanking his spine. “W…will you come sit with me in the living room?”

“Sure.”

Fisting the covers, he moved around her and stepped out of bed. Naked. Staring straight ahead, her lips parted releasing a small gasp, completely mesmerized by the sight of him, semi erect getting harder before her eyes. A shiver tingled up her spine, feeling the ghost of his hand slipping firmly into the mass of hair at her nape. She knew she should look away, but loneliness left her yearning for comfort.